


Even if you’re better off (I’d never let you go).

by rosmarine



Category: Hataraku Maou-Sama! | The Devil Is a Part-Timer!
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosmarine/pseuds/rosmarine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone who feeds off feelings, Maou’s pretty bad with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even if you’re better off (I’d never let you go).

“I don’t see why you had to come along,” said Satan, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Beside him, Alciel’s head ducked and another shiver wracked his body. Thicker coats - of all the things that didn’t make the damn budget. 

“Forgive me, sire,” Alciel said, and Satan suppressed a groan.  _ When you share a crappy flat with someone _ , he thought, _ and depend on them for most of your meals, there’s really no need for formalities.  _

Alciel continued. “It’s just that I know you have yet to eat dinner, and those who shop while hungry are prone to overspending. I do not wish to impose myself into your time.”

The harsh lights of the streetlamp cast eerie shadows onto Alciel’s face, almost as if they were trying to reveal his true nature.

“Oh, no,” said Satan, brushing their shoulders. “I like hanging out with you . But you’re kind of shivering, and we haven’t even reached the store yet.” The convenience store came into view, the illuminated sign flickering. Alciel rushed ahead, yanking the door open and standing with his head bowed until Satan passed through.

The store smelled like disinfectant. Satan grabbed a hand basket.

“All right,” he said, “you’re the master of our budget. Tell me what to buy.” Alciel’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish in one of those giant aquariums they visited last weekend. Satan suppressed a smile as a heavy blush blossomed across Alciel’s cheeks. 

Satan sometimes wondered who Alciel could be in this world, when he wasn’t throwing himself at Satan’s feet and devoting all his time to research. Maybe he could be a librarian. 

Satan made a mental note to approach the idea of Alciel finding a job, too. Then maybe they’d be able to afford a bigger fridge or fix the heater.

He shadowed Alciel. Alciel consulted the circular and his coupon book as if they were his bible.

“Hey, are you sure we need that?” Satan pointed to the jar of instant coffee, nestled between the noodles and cucumbers. 

“Yes. It is crucial for the proper functioning of the human body.” Satan chuckled, remembering the time Alciel had pitched straight forward into his bowl of cereal one morning after pulling an all-nighter. 

“Besides, this jar makes 200 cups and is 85 cents. That is roughly one-half cent per cup. Although, I suppose you'd have to factor in the cost of the water, heating, sweetener, milk…”

Alciel ticked items off on his fingers, lost in his train of thought.

The skin between his brow wrinkled, and Satan wanted to sooth it, to watch it dissolve. He wanted to work his fingers into the tense muscles of Alciel’s shoulders until he melted. 

Satan shook his head. How exactly had they gotten to this point? The most feared demon arguing over groceries with his general and imagining giving him a backrub?

Satan was torn back to reality by a loud clicking noise. 

The only other two people in the store were a cashier - why were her hands raised? - and a hooded figure checking out. No, not checking out. Holding a gun.

“Hey,” said the cashier, “You can’t just read those without paying!” The hooded figure slammed the magazine onto the counter.

“Give me all the money in the register, or you’ll never read again. Because you’ll be dead.”

Satan’s body lurched into motion before his mind caught up.

“Put it down, kid,” he said. Satan’s fingers clenched into fists. He ignored the sting of his nails biting into his palm.

The figure swung around to face him. Satan caught sight of violet eyes. 

There was a sound loud enough to piece his eardrums. The smell of burning cigarettes. A screech.

Alciel’s.

Satan darted forwards, throwing his arms around Alciel. They collapsed. Alciel’s eyelids fluttered. Satan couldn’t even tell where the shot had hit. Alciel’s entire shirt was red. 

“Alciel!” For a moment, panic burned into Satan’s throat, blinding his vision. He reached deep inside himself, grasping at his power, but it kept slipping through his clutches like hot sand. It was like scraping the last drop of soup from the bottom of the pot.

“S-s-s…” Like the hiss of a snake. Alciel’s eye eyes rolled back into his head. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth like crimson saliva.

No. Satan couldn’t lose him.  _ Wouldn’t _ . Satan knew that he himself could take bulletholes, flames, suffocation - but he was  _ Satan _ . Certain things really didn’t apply to him. He had no idea where Alciel stood in terms of immortality, and frankly, he could live through his entire existence without discovering it. 

Satan didn’t even have the excuse that his fear stemmed from being alone, because he’d still have Amelia and Chi, he’d still have his job and his castle with one less mouth to feed. The thought made his gut clench. He reached out, clinging to the flaky feelings of the humans around him, but - nothing. The cashier rose on an adrenaline high, fueled by a twisted giddiness, and the obscured figure radiated a calm serenity.

But…

Satan had always been most attuned to Alciel. Felt the throb of his dissatisfaction, pangs of insecurity and jealousy, his creeping anxiety.

“Come on,” said the cashier, “I wouldn’t give you a pack of gum.”

A warm stickiness seeped into Satan’s shirt. The rise and fall of Alciel’s chest drew imperceptible. 

Satan pulled Alciel closer until his lips just brushed the shell of Alciel’s ear, and he began to whisper.

“You are a piece of trash. How am I supposed to rely on you to protect me when you can’t even protect yourself? We come to destroy this world, and all you care about it staying within our monthly budget.” Alciel’s eyes squeezed shut, and he drooped in Satan’s arms. If Satan  had eaten dinner, he’d be vomiting. His heart hammered, and he gritted his teeth. 

“Pathetic.” 

A dam burst. Waves washed over Satan of the most intense pain and sorrow he’d ever felt.  _ This _ , thought Satan as he shot a beam of light at the intruder,  _ would be enough to feed me for a thousand years.  _

With one arm looped around Alciel’s waist, Satan used the other to find the bullet hole, to clog the burst pipe. It was just below Alciel’s left shoulder, above his only beating heart. The hole was wide enough for Satan to stick a taloned finger inside, and he commanded the blood vessels to repair, for the tissue to grow back.

The color returned to Alciel’s cheeks, and Satan forced himself to stay upright. 

There was a time for weak knees, but it wasn’t now.

Satan grabbed a hose head off the counter and threw it like a javelin, nailing the assailant right in the forehead.

“Leave, child,” he said, his voice distorted. what he really wanted was to split the kid in two, remove his kidneys and then feed them to him for shooting Satan’s best friend.

The figure looked at him, his eyes narrowed, and he fled.

Satan’s eyes locked on the door, urging it to stay closed.

Pressure built in his chest. No - against it. Satan glanced down. A pair of hands. For a moment, his grip on Alciel tightened. Alciel rose to his feet, placing a hand on Satan’s shoulder to steady himself. 

“Alciel - “ Alciel pulled his hand back like it had been scorched, turning away. He crossed his arms over his chest, curling in on himself. The stain had spread to his back. 

Satan picked up the basket, shoving the loaf of bread inside. The jar of instant coffee had cracked open, shards of glass lying against the discolored tile. 

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, “I made a mess. I’m very sorry. Do you have a mop or something I could use to clean it up?”

The cashier’s eyes sparkled with a mad giddiness. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. It’s not like I have any work to do at eleven o’clock at night, and you just saved my sorry ass. Your order’s on the house.”

“No, please, I insist on paying.” Satan rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “I really wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

He walked out of the store with a 50% discount and a free bottle of cooking oil.

The walk back to the flat was frigid. Satan considered stepping closer to Alciel, but Alciel flinched at his every move. 

“Alciel,” he said, “I’m sorry. None of what I said was true, I just needed to get a rise out of you. It was incredibly stupid of me, but I panicked.” Maybe that was the problem - Satan knew exactly how to crush Alciel’s heart, tear it out of his chest and chew on it. Of all things, this was the one power Satan couldn’t hold. Didn’t  _ want _ to hold.

Alciel made no indication he’d heard. They walked along the moonlit path in utter silence, accompanied only by the rush of cold air.

At the castle, Satan unlocked the door. The room was noiseless except for the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing as he put away the grocers. He flipped the light switch, submerging the room in darkness. 

His clothes stuck to his skin as he slipped them off, stripping down and tossing them near the sink. Alciel turned away from him to undress. Under the cover of night, his skin could have been stained black with ink. But Satan was never one for self deception. 

The sound of the faucet turning on, the stream of water running over a rag sounded like a rushing waterfall. Satan wrung out the cloth. 

“Alciel, let me help you. Please.” His voice was foreign, fragile. Satan placed a hand on Alciel’s waist, guiding him until his back hit the sink. He turned Alciel around and ran the rag across Alciel’s back. 

Satan was close enough to see the gooseflesh spread across his skin. Satan ran the faucet again, testing the water with two fingers until whispers of steam rose. He drenched the rag, watching as blood swirled with water and ran down the drain. He scrubbed at Alciel’s skin until all the blood was gone.

He tapped two fingers against Alciel’s hip. “Come on, Al. Face me. Please.”

After several heartbeats, Alciel shifted. His head hung low, his hair falling like a curtain. Satan wrung out the rag once more, diluting the blood. He worked in silence. This close, he could feel Alciel’s pulse beneath his fingertips. 

Tentatively, Satan reached towards Alciel’s mind. All he felt was the steady throb of a pit of deep despair, one that he himself could fall into if he wasn’t careful.

Satan inhaled. He placed a hand on Alciel’s cheek.

“Alciel,” he breathed, “I made a horrible mistake. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

Horrible silence.

“If you would like me to leave, sire,” said Alciel, in a voice that made Satan wonder if Alciel’s vocal chords had been pierced, “I will go.”

Satan drew back. His fingers clenched in a fist on the countertop.

“No,” he said. “Listen! Don’t make me order you. Out of all the people I could’ve been stuck with, you’re the one I want by my side in this unfamiliar world.”

So this is how it feels to be begging forgiveness. That’s new.

Alciel’s shoulders trembled. Anger. He had every right to - no, Satan couldn’t taste it.

“Alciel,” are you crying?” Alciel lurched forwards, throwing his arms around Satan’s neck. 

“I’m sorry, Sire! I never meant to doubt our relationship!” 

Satan’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Stop apologizing! I'm the one who messed up!”

Alciel leaned forwards, halted, then asked in a shaky voice, “May I?”

For a second, Satan just looked at Alciel’s red-rimmed eyes. A flicker of confusion darted across Satan’s mind before his eyes widened. 

“In the name of all that is sacred, hell yes.” 

Alciel tackled Satan, kissing him fiercely. Satan’s head knocked against the oven vent. His hands flew upwards, one cupping the back of Alciel’s neck, the other tightening around his waist. 

Alciel tasted like coconut tea and cheap coffee without a hint of insecurity. However, there was still the steady thrum of anxiety that followed him around like a swarm of buzzing bees.

Their noses smashed together and Satan withdrew, taking a moment to tilt his head and try again. Alciel’s lips were soft.

The kiss dragged on, Alciel’s warm weight settled firmly against Satan. A shiver passed through Alciel and for the first time, Satan felt the clamminess of Alciel’s skin. He grabbed Alciel’s hand, pressing kisses to his knuckles. Alciel let out a moan.

“Did you think,” said Satan, “that I would ever let you leave?”

“I was upset,” said Alciel, his gaze falling to the floor. “And I may have been...histrionic.” 

A low chuckle rumbled through Satan’s chest. “Even if I knew you were better off without me,” he said, “I’d never let you go.”

Alciel’s pupils were pools of darkness, and let out a choked groan.

Alciel’s hair stuck up in different directions, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. Satan’s hands found their way to the tips, smoothing it out. This time, Alciel pressed Satan against the countertop, pressing his lips to Satan’s neck. 

Abruptly, Satan realized how few clothes they had on between them.

He scooped up Alciel, navigating the kitchen in darkness, and dumped him on the mattress. Alciel giggled, and Satan loomed over him, kissing him.

“I’m sorry,” said Satan, breaking the kiss. “I don’t mean to pressure you. It's just that I was sick of kitchen appliances pressing into my back.” Even in the darkness, Satan could pick out the blush against Alciel’s porcelain skin. He badly wanted to kiss it. And he could! Just - not this second, in the middle of a very important conversation.

“No, I really want this, too,” said Alciel. “It’s just that -”  he swallowed. “In Entre Isla, they’d kill us.”

Satan shrugged. “I think they’re okay with it here.” 

Alciel lifted his gaze. Satan reached forwards, brushing his thumb across Alciel’s cheek. 

“We don’t have to go back,” said Satan. If he couldn’t kiss Alciel in Entre Isla or hold his hand and have conversations over breakfast, than Satan had no interest in returning.

A shy grin spread across Alciel’s face, and he kissed Satan. Whatever fantasy Chi’s friend had conjured, it didn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

“It’s too damn cold in here,” said Satan, tugging Alciel closer. 

“Apologies, sir. Heating is not an expense which we can afford.”

Everywhere they touched, Satan’s skin glowed. He carded his hands through Alciel’s hair.

They could use a bigger fridge. After all, fixing the heater could wait. 

Alciel and Satan already burned like falling stars.


End file.
